Feelings Are Fucking Stupid
by vixensheart
Summary: Feelings are complicated. [Crossposted from ao3]
1. Feelings Are Fucking Stupid

_Izuku doesn't actually know how to talk about feelings, but Bakugou asks him anyway. _

**~#~#~#~**

Izuku was in the zone. Laser focused, eyes trained on the paper and the only sound in the room coming from his pencil scratching messy equations as he furiously worked the math problem. He was so close to the answer, too. Izuku knew how to solve this one; he'd been working the homework for over an hour and each problem was easier than the last, albeit more contrived. A few more simplifications, a multiplication, and-

_Bang, bang, bang!_

A yelp tore from his throat, and Izuku flailed, quirk activating and nearly sending him flying into the wall. His textbook thumped on the floor, pages from his notebook fluttering down to join it. Izuku whipped his head about, brows furrowed. What the...?

_Bang, bang, bang!_

The sound returned, this time accompanied by a, "Open the fuck up, fucker!" and Izuku realized belatedly that the banging was an exaggerated knocking at his dorm room door. He scrambled off the bed, floundering in his haste and nearly falling on his face. Izuku decided to blame his still pounding heart and trembling limbs for that. He twisted his knob and all but threw open the door, revealing the scowling face of Bakugou. Izuku blinked.

"Kacchan?" he said, dumbstruck. Bakugou only scowled harder, if possible, and forcibly shouldered his way into Izuku's room. Which. Was this actually happening? He blinked again, gears slowly whirring in his mind as he shut the door in almost a haze. He turned, slowly, taking in the sight of the hunched form of his...friend? Frenemy? Rival? Honestly, Izuku wasn't really sure what their relationship was at this point.

After their fight and the reveal of One for All, he and Bakugou had certainly gotten along better. They sort of hung out more, too, if only to train. Which honestly involved a lot of screaming and Bakugou chasing him around with explosions. Outside of that, though, they mostly stuck to their little circles. Izuku tilted his head. Currently, Bakugou stood in the center of his room, looking only seconds away from imploding and turning the dorm and everything in it into a smoldering crater. Not a comforting thought. His shoulders were up to his ears, his brows scrunched and face down turned into a nasty scowl that still managed to make Izuku suppress a tremble. Bakugou's arms were crossed too, though that didn't stop the occasional soft 'pop' from crackling in his palms. He looked...pissed off.

Izuku cleared his throat and fidgeted in place. "So, so uh, what brings you here, Kacchan?" he stammered out. Bakugou glared at him. He huffed once, twice. Was he just here to kill him? Izuku fought a quell of panic, flitting through their most recent interactions in his mind's eye. He didn't remember saying or doing anything to piss off Bakugou. They haven't even really spoken recently! Exams were coming up, and they were both swamped with studying and training. Plus, nothing new had happened with One for All, so there wasn't any reason for Bakugou to _want_ to kill him right now, right? He-

"How the fuck do you tell someone you like them?"

The question, gruff and awkward, shut down Izuku's thought process, and he had to spend a good ten seconds rebooting his mind. Bakugou was asking _him_ for advice. About romance. Izuku resisted the urge to punch himself in the face. This almost certainly had to be a dream. "You-you're asking _me?_" he blurted, eyes wide. Bakugou snarled, dropping his arms and hands curling into fists.

"The fuck does it look like?"

Izuku slapped his hands to his cheeks, unsure if he should laugh or cry. "Bu-but _why?_" he cried. "I don't know! I'm not exactly an expert on that stuff!"

Bakugou reared back at this, puzzlement melting the aggression from his features. He stared at Izuku for a beat. "But aren't you and Round-cheeks a thing?"

The mention of Ochako had a blush blooming across Izuku's face and heat burning in his chest, and he floundered. "I-I, uh, I mean, well-" He paused, forcing himself to breathe. "We're uh, taking things slow," he said. It was true, them being a_ thing_. It was new and shiny and still made Izuku a stammering, blushing mess just thinking about holding her _hand_. He sighed, shoulders slumping. "Besides," he muttered, voice soft, "she was the one to approach me first."

"Fucking of course she was," Bakugou said, palms popping. "Should've fuckin' figured. Fuck."

Izuku scrunched his brows. "Why me, though? Why didn't you ask Kirishima-kun first?"

At the mention of his friend, Bakugou's shoulders shot back up to his ears, and a bright red flush spread across his cheeks. Izuku stared. Oh. _Oh._ Understanding washed over him like a wave, and he found himself gawking. That was not something he saw coming. Then again, neither was this entire conversation. "You...you like Kirishima?"

Bakugou scoffed and looked away, face still bright red. Well, alright then. Izuku supposed that was as good of an answer he was going to get. And considering Bakugou didn't deny it, well. He couldn't stop the incredulous snort that bubbled forth. "Damn," he said. Bakugou leveled him with a glare, but it was weak.

"So fucking what? You still didn't answer my question."

Izuku sighed. He made the executive decision to walk over to his bed and drop onto it, bouncing a little as he contemplated Bakugou's question. Truthfully, feelings were not his forte. After all, he hadn't really had any real friends until high school, let alone a girlfriend. His heart stuttered in his chest and Izuku had to remind himself to breathe. He still wasn't used to the girlfriend part. It probably didn't help that he hadn't been fully aware of his feelings for the longest time. Sure, he was aware that how he felt for Ochako was _different._ Butterflies and knots in his stomach at so much as a glance, the way her smile made him weak at the knees. But they were busy with hero courses and school work and their internships, so Izuku hadn't given those feelings much thought. At least, not until a few weeks ago when a blushing but determined Ochako cornered him after class and confessed to him.

Then he thought about it a whole lot.

"Well," he started, "when, erm, when Ochako..._confessed_...she asked me to meet her somewhere private. A-and then she just...told me."

Silence. Then, "That's it?"

Izuku turned, brows raised at Bakugou's incredulous stare. "She just _said_ it?" Bakugou said. "And you said it back?"

He flushed at that, an awkward chuckle rising in his throat. Izuku rubbed at the back of his neck, gaze skirting to his homework that laid forgotten on the floor. "Not exactly," he muttered. "I uh, might've started laughing. A lot."

Bakugou gave him a flat look. Izuku huffed and fell back onto his bed, covering his face with his hands. "Hey! I thought it was a joke, okay?" He didn't mention how he'd never thought anyone would _ever_ like him like that, as that was a whole other can of worms Izuku was too tired to open. Right now, anyway. He was working through it, really. Izuku sighed and let his hands fall to his sides. "My point is, I think you should just tell him." Izuku pulled himself back up to a sitting position, looking pointedly at the explosive boy standing in the center of his room. Bakugou refused to meet his stare, but Izuku pressed on anyway. "You're not one for grand gestures, and besides," he said, "if Kirishima-kun likes you, he won't care if you're blunt or awkward. Just...be yourself."

There was a beat where they stared at each other, before Bakugou deflated and let out a sigh. "Damn. Fuck." He scowled at the floor like it personally offended him. "Feelings are fucking stupid."

Izuku chuckled. "Yeah, they can be."

Silence, again. Then, "Thanks." It was so soft that Izuku almost thought he hallucinated it. He looked up, startled, his gaze meeting that of Bakugou's. He let out another chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck and gaze darting about his room.

"O-of course. Let me know how it goes?"

Bakugou tsked, already striding for the door. "Whatever, nerd." He slammed the door behind him, leaving Izuku blinking after him. Well, that went...well. Probably. Izuku shrugged to himself. He supposed it went about as well as any interaction with Bakugou went. His phone buzzed from its place on his nightstand, snagging his attention. Izuku crawled across his mattress so he could reach for it, quickly swiping to look at the message.

_Ochako 3: math is hurting me :p study date?_

Butterflies erupted in Izuku's stomach, and he couldn't stop the giddy grin if he tried. He started tapping away at his screen.

_Me: Sure! Be right down!_

He scrambled off the bed and scooped up his textbook and scattered homework pages. Well. He wished Bakugou the best of luck, at least. For now, though, he had other pressing matters to attend to. Izuku smiled as he collected his scattered homework.

* * *

**I have no idea who will be interested in this 'lil set of oneshots, but I figured I may as well crosspost them here just in case. So yeah. Have fun. **

**-Kat**


	2. I Think I Like You, Too

_Ochako isn't sure how to void her feelings, or if that's even possible. Asui insists that perhaps talking about them will help. _

**~#~#~#~**

Feelings sucked. They were all mushy and distracting, and Ochako really couldn't afford that right now, thanks. She just didn't have time to stare wistfully out the window and imagine getting swept off her feet, or what it would feel like to kiss someone in the rain while dramatic music played in the background. Sure, it would be nice to have such things. But wasting precious time that could be spent training or studying or managing her finances was not going to help her get to be a top pro hero. No sir.

So Ochako took those soft feelings blossoming in her chest and crammed them into a box, never to be looked at again. Or. So she thought, anyway.

As it turned out, feelings weren't like flowers. She couldn't deprive them of sunlight and have them wither and die. Even unattended, they could blossom and bloom and flourish, until suddenly Ochako found herself surrounded by vibrant, expressive roses screaming, "You love him, you love him!" and no way to deny it. Which was why Ochako was currently laying face-down on the couch and groaning in misery. "What am I going to do?" she whined, voice muffled by the cushion.

There was a clank and a thud; Asui was fiddling in the kitchen. She hummed, and Ochako could picture her tapping a finger to her chin. "About what, 'Chako?" she croaked. Ochako rolled onto her back, glaring up at the ceiling.

"About _you know what!_" Her face was hot, and Ochako smacked her hands to her cheeks, pinkies raised. "Ugh, I can't afford this distraction! I need to focus on school. I don't have time for romance. Why can't these feelings just _leave?_"

Asui sighed. "Oftentimes, our hearts want what they want. Besides, how do you know Midoriya wouldn't feel the same way?"

Ochako squeaked at the mention of his name. Her flush burned even hotter, if possible. There were many reasons. Many. She could make a list a mile long. He wanted to be number one hero, that was his sole focus, his biggest drive, and that ambition left little to no time for romance. Or what about the many other girls that swooned at his kind and heroic demeanor? It didn't help that they were surrounded by attractive people of all sorts; Midoriya had his fair share of cute people to pick from. Why, out of all of them, would he pick _her?_ "Well," Ochako said, "he clearly isn't interested in anyone. I mean." She paused, gaze dropping to her hands. "You know how determined he is. Romance isn't even on his radar."

"Hmm." Asui entered Ochako's line of sight; she was leaning over the couch, her expression one of careful contemplation. "It may not seem that way, but you never really know unless you ask."

The very thought of confessing had Ochako's heart in her throat. She grimaced, trying to shove the panic away. "Yeah, I don't want to do that. I think I'd rather lie here and die." Perhaps she was being dramatic, but dammit, Ochako really didn't want to deal with this right now. Romance was too much work and definitely out of the realm of possibilities for her. Plus, Midoriya was one of her best friends. It was enough to have his friendship, really. Ochako bit her lip, the sting momentarily distracting her from the sting in her chest.

"That hasn't seemed to help you so far, has it?"

Ochako shot Asui a glare, but it didn't seem to phase her. She just gazed at Ochako with those wide, gentle eyes, a bemused but knowing look settled there. "Perhaps you should tell him anyway, ribbit."

Her heart leaped to her throat. "Huh?"

"Even if you don't want to date, perhaps if you just tell Midoriya about your feelings, it could help you get over them."

Asui's words rang in Ochako's ears. She blinked at the ceiling. "You think I should just tell him? Just like that?"

Her frog-like friend shrugged from where she leaned into the couch. "I think you should figure out what's best for you, ribbit. My suggestion still stands, though." She didn't wait for an answer, pushing away from the couch and returning to tinker in the kitchen. Ochako was sort of grateful for the distance. It let her think. About Midoriya, and feelings, and how much she wished she could yeet herself into space and forget about all of it. Ochako sighed. Feelings really sucked.

**~#~#~#~**

Ochako glared at the punching bag. It bucked and swung, the chain holding it up creaking treacherously. Her knuckles stung and her arms burned from the strain, but it was a pleasant sensation. It meant she was working hard. Ochako threw another punch, grunting with the effort. Working out was therapeutic. She could let her mind wander, let her body fly on autopilot for awhile. It was especially nice when she needed to think about something.

And boy, did she have a lot to think about.

Asui's advice had been playing on repeat in her mind for the past three days. For the past three days, Ochako had tried desperately to think of another way, any other way, she could escape her feelings. Google had yielded no results she hadn't already tried, and her frayed, desperate mind couldn't come up with anything better. Which was why she was now angrily punching a punching bag.

She was totally going to have to tell him, wasn't she?

Ochako sighed, her gaze dropping to her wrapped hands. Welp. This was going to suck a lot. She sucked in a breath and squared her shoulders. No, wait. This was just a stumbling block, right? It wasn't like Midoriya returned her feelings. She just. Had to get it out there. Get it off her chest. He would understand; they were a team, and not even awkward, annoying feelings would change that. She'd just tell him and they'd laugh and move on. Yeah, this was going to be _fine_.

Her fists trembled as she threw her next punch. Ochako hissed and swung again, refusing to dwell on the undercurrent of anxiety swirling in her gut.

_I'll be fine, it'll be fine, everything's fine!_

Her internal chant did little to drown out the pounding of her heart.

**~#~#~#~**

Today was the day.

Ochako couldn't possibly put it off any longer than she already had. Exams were starting to creep up, and she really needed to be one-hundred percent focused. So she had to do it. Today. After classes.

She sucked in a breath. It would be just like ripping off a band-aid. Ochako just had to lay it all out, reassure Midoriya that she just wanted his friendship and to not worry, and move on with her life. Yeah. That was it. Easy peasy. Still, Ochako felt something twist in her gut. Her hands trembled, and it took everything in her willpower to shut down the ever present, ever soft murmurings of _'what ifs'_ in the back of her mind.

When class was dismissed, she stood so abruptly, her chair nearly toppled to the ground. Ochako's face burned, and she fumbled to right it, her gaze cutting to Midoriya as he lingered beside Iida. She straightened, adjusting her backpack straps. _You can do this_, she told herself. _Don't think too hard. Just tell him_.

Ochako waited until they had left the classroom. Right outside the doorway, before she could chicken out, she snatched Midoriya's wrist and gave it a tug. "Hey, wait," she said, voice shaky. He paused, midstep, and peered back at her with furrowed brows.

"Everything okay, Uraraka-san?"

Her heart did a little flip at the sound of her name. Midoriya was so formal, so respectful, with everyone; it was utterly adorable. She bit her lip, heat rising in her cheeks. "Ye-yeah, I just, um. Can we talk? Alone?"

At this, his brows furrowed even more. Worry danced in those pretty emerald eyes, but Midoriya dipped his head in a nod. "Of course." The sincerity had Ochako's heart flipping again, and she inwardly cursed her stupid, stupid crush. Dropping his wrist, Ochako whirled around and led Midoriya through the crowd to somewhere...less crowded.

That somewhere ended up being a secluded stairwell in a corner of U.A. It was closer to the general education department, and therefore less traversed. Here, she could stare at her shoes, face burning hot, as she tried to summon the strength to do what she came here to do. Midoriya stood before her, expectant, that emerald gaze of his soft and his brow notched with worry. Ochako sucked in a breath. And another. She squared her shoulders and looked up. "I like you." Her voice echoed in her ears and it was like a damn had burst within her. "As in, more than just a friend," she said, words spilling forth from her lips. "I don't know when it happened, but it did. A-and I know that you're not looking for a relationship, that's fine. I just. I had to get this off my chest, you know?" Ochako tucked her hair behind her ear with a shaking hand. Shyly, she watched the boy in front of her, breath caught in her throat and heart hammering in her chest. There was a beat where they simply stared at each other. Then, the unexpected happened.

Midoriya laughed. It started with a giggle, building into a full body shaking, deep, belly laugh. Ochako could only stare, stunned, as he doubled over, tears dripping from his eyes. "Th-tha-that's, so- ahahaha- yuh-you- hahaha-"

Ochako frowned, hands curling into fists. "I'm serious!" she yelled. Immediately, the laughter died. Midoriya stared wide-eyed, mouth hanging open and cheeks wet.

"Wh-what?"

"I'm serious," she said, glaring. "Deku, I _like_ you. A lot." Ochako crossed her arms and looked away, face burning hot. "I understand if you don't feel the same way, but you don't have to laugh about it."

She was met with silence. Ochako dared to peek up at him, only to blink. Midoriya was gawking at her with an incredulous expression. Slowly, a bright flush rose onto his features, and he sank to the ground, hugging his knees. "Oh," he whispered. "You, you really mean it? Me?"

Ochako tilted her head. "Er, yes?"

"But, I'm...I'm not..."

It was like a wall of ice was melting in her mind. A thought, a scary, sad thought, took shape in her mind, and Ochako knelt before Midoriya and reached out to him. Her fingers brushed against his hand, drawing his attention to her. "You're brave," she said. "And kind. Your heart is so pure, and full of love." She hesitated, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb. "You inspire me everyday to be better."

Midoriya gasped and buried his face in his knees. From here, Ochako could see the tips of his ears grow red, and she felt warm inside. Ugh, he was just so _cute._ He mumbled something and Ochako leaned closer. "I didn't hear that. What did you say?"

"I-think-I-like-you-too."

Ochako sucked in a breath. Oh. Oh, dear. "Um," she said. Midoriya peeked up at her, face still very red. Slowly, he shifted, entwining their fingers. His hand shook in her grasp, but the action, though simple, was enough to send a bolt of affection through her very soul. A smile warmed her lips, and Ochako resisted the urge to giggle. He liked her back.

_Midoriya liked her back._

They sat there, awkward and blushing, hands entwined. This wasn't how Ochako had planned for things to go. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to care. Not when her heart felt so full, it could burst. Feelings sucked, sometimes, but if this was where they lead, Ochako felt that maybe they were worth it.

* * *

**Don't ask, I don't have answers, lol. Just take it. XD**

**-Kat**


	3. You're Really Fucking Pretty

_Armed with some advice, Katsuki attempts to confess his feelings. Sort of. He's mostly just winging this. _

**~#~#~#~**

Katsuki banged his head on his desk. He was supposed to be doing his homework, but the math was mind-numbingly easy and he could afford to waste another twenty minutes banging his skull against the worn wood of his desk. "Stupid. Fuckin'. _Feelings_," he seethed. He stopped his banging to glare down at the half finished equation, as if it would lend him any answers. It didn't, of course, and he growled and slammed his head back down onto his desk. "Fuck."

Deku's words bounced around his head. _"I think you should just tell him."_ Katsuki scowled. Yeah, okay, and how the fuck was he supposed to do that? He could begrudgingly admit that it wasn't bad advice. He sighed and tugged at his hair. No, Deku's advice was probably the same as what anyone else would tell him. Which. Ugh. Katsuki was great at math. And school work. And he was damn proud to say that he was one of the top students in the most competitive hero courses in the entire goddamn country. He wasn't, however, any good at emotions. So how was he supposed to look at Kirishima's pretty fucking face and tell him how he felt? Katsuki scowled harder. Time was up. He needed to do his math homework. He tried to get his mind to shut the fuck up so he could focus, he really did. Katsuki gripped his pencil so tight his knuckles turned white and glared at his paper. "I'm doing my homework," he announced to the room. No answer came.

He didn't end up doing his homework.

**~#~#~#~**

Winning was important. Katsuki used to think it was the most important part of being a hero, but he was learning lately that winning the battle wasn't always truly _winning_. Still. Winning was important. He liked to win. Win the A+ on the test, win at game night, win the challenge during hero course, win the number one hero spot.

Win the guy.

Katsuki swallowed a groan and curled his hands into fists. He was still trying to figure that last one out.

As it stood, it had been a week since he'd cornered Deku in his room and asked for advice. In that week, he had not followed that advice one bit. It wasn't that he hadn't had the opportunity. He and Kirishima hung out almost every single night, studying and goofing off by watching movies or whatever other shit Kirishima presented to him. No, it was more like Katsuki got distracted. Staring at Kirishima's pretty fucking face.

It was pathetic.

"So, Blasty, what's our strategy?" Kaminari asked. Katsuki grimaced. They were in the middle of a class exercise; capture the flag, but with quirks. It was supposed to help team building, or some shit. All Katsuki knew, was that he was too damn distracted and it was pissing him off.

"We catch their damn flag so I can be done with this fucking conversation," he growled. Kaminari whined, pouting as he gave his shoulder a shove.

"Come on, man, we're supposed to be a team. Kiri, tell him we're a team!"

Kirishima chuckled, that bright grin of his making Katsuki's heart stutter. He scowled at his boots, cursing his stupid body. Stupid heart. Stupid Kirishima. Katsuki aimed his gauntlets at the ground, not waiting for Kirishima's retort. "This is stupid," he said, letting loose an explosion. The recoil sent him flying up and into the air. From here, it was easy to see the layout of the mock city down below. The arena was like many they'd used in the past. Abandoned buildings, one of which containing the flag they were supposed to capture. It was a cheesy game that Katsuki hated to take seriously. Aizawa was just going easy on them, after all. Exams were coming up, and it was clear the staff were saving the hard stuff for then.

Apparently though, Katsuki was more distracted than he thought. He didn't see the counterattack until Deku's boots were slamming into his side, sending him careening towards the ground. Pain bloomed from his side and everything spun, the colors of sky and skyscrapers melding together in his vision. "Fuck!" Katsuki wheezed. He aimed his gauntlets to where he thought down was, letting loose an explosion. And another. Wind whipped at his hair and face, and he was soaring and soaring until he wasn't. With an undignified shriek, he crash landed into a nearby dumpster, the acrid, nasty stench of trash filling his nose and mouth.

Katsuki groaned. "Fuck," he said to no one in particular. Part of Katsuki wanted to be pissed off. Wanted to blow shit up and scream and blame everything on Deku, or something. The other part of himself just wanted to lie here amid the torn bags of trash and wallow in self pity. Neither option actually helped him, he knew, but dammit. This fucking sucked.

"Bakugou?"

The ever familiar, warm voice of Kirishima bounced through the alleyway and carried over to Katsuki's dumpster. His heart skipped a beat and Katsuki resisted the urge to shove his face further into the trash bags to scream. "In here!" he yelled instead. There was the scuff of boots on concrete coming closer and closer. Katsuki sighed. "'M in the dumpster."

"How'd you manage that?" Kirishima asked. He peered over the side of the dumpster and oh, fuck. The light lit behind Kirishima like a halo, and Katsuki felt heat burn under his skin and in his chest and holy fuck, he was pretty. He stared, wide-eyed, mouth open and mind utterly blank aside from that one thought. _Pretty, pretty, pretty._

"Need a hand?"

Kirishima's voice echoed strangely in the dumpster, rattling in Katsuki's empty mind, and he blinked at the hand entering his line of sight. Oh. Right. Katsuki reached up and grasped it, letting Kirishima pull him up to his feet. He went to crawl over the side of the dumpster, but the muscles in his side twinged and Katsuki hissed, and instead of crawling free with some of his dignity left, he flopped to the ground with a yelp. Or, he would have, had a pair of strong arms not caught him.

"You okay, dude?"

Katsuki heard Kirishima. He really did. But his hands were currently clutching his friend's insanely muscular arms and his mind, as a result, was just white noise. He looked up, his gaze tangling with the bemused one of Kirishima's. Katsuki gulped. "You're really fucking pretty," he blurted. Kirishima blinked. He opened his mouth. Then shut it. A blush, as bright as his hair, bloomed across his face.

"Um," he said.

Then, because of fucking course, the annoying horn blared in the city, signifying the exercise was over. Kirishima sprang back, twisting on his heels and marching away with an awkward laugh. "Oh, look at that, class is over! C'mon, let's go!" He didn't wait, leaving Katsuki staring after him, dripping trash juice on the concrete.

Fucking hell.

**~#~#~#~**

The unwelcome knocking grated on Katsuki's ears. He ground his teeth together, lifting his head from his mattress and glaring across his room. Stupid fucking classmates. All he wanted to do was wallow in the solace of his own room. Was that really too damn much to ask for? Was it? The knock echoed again, and with a groan, Katsuki dragged himself to his feet and stomped over. Twisting his door handle, he threw the door open. "Fucking what?" he snapped. He was met with a sheepish Kirishima, holding his math workbook and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Uh, hey, bro. I could, erm, use some help. Please?"

Katsuki's stomach erupted into butterflies and his grip tightened on the doorknob. Fuck. It wasn't the first time this shit had happened when interacting with Kirishima, but it always made him want to blow himself up. Stupid sappy shit. He stepped aside on reflex alone, forcing out an irritated huff and a scowl. Katsuki had an image to maintain, after all. That, and he had already embarrassed himself enough today. Might as well _try_ to act somewhat normal.

Kirishima slumped in relief, muttering "Thanks, dude," over and over again as he slipped inside. Katsuki just grunted. He shut the door and it clicked, and suddenly they were truly alone. Together. In his room.

Well. Fuck.

"Show me the problem," Katsuki said, voice gruff. He stalked to his bed and flopped onto it, Kirishima hot on his heels. One glance at Kirishima's workbook and Katsuki had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. They were working on systems of equations, which he found easy and mind numbing. But Katsuki knew Kirishima struggled a bit with the setup of these things. So he carefully explained the process and shoved the workbook back at him, flopping back to stare at his ceiling while Kirishima worked.

Of course, ten seconds into mindlessly tracing patterns on his ceiling, and Kirishima started to fidget. Katsuki's gaze flicked to him, his brows furrowing. He could see his knuckle-head of a friend tapping his pencil against the page, head turned as he stared off into an odd corner of Katsuki's room. "Oi, Shitty Hair. The fuck are you doing?" he snapped. Kirishima jumped, gaze snapping to his.

"Oh. Um." He hesitated, brow furrowing. Katsuki sighed.

"Don't get distracted when we've hardly started. I know you have more questions than that."

"Sorry."

But Kirishima still didn't work. He chewed his lip instead, head tilted as he looked at Katsuki. Those damned butterflies stirred in a frenzy and Katsuki almost wanted to hurl. He rubbed his hands on his pants and sat up, scowling. "Fucking what?"

"Why'd you call me pretty?" Kirishima blurted. Katsuki just stared. He watched his friend fidget, that bright blush staining his face once more as he rolled the pencil between his fingers. "Earlier today, in class. You called me pretty." Kirishima wasn't looking at him, and his brow was crinkled in a way that Katsuki found rather annoying. His hand twitched with a need to reach out and smooth that wrinkle. Katsuki scowled, heart hammering in his chest.

"What do you mean why? Obviously because you're pretty."

Kirishima frowned. "Pretty as in I'm pretty manly, or..."

"No, idiot," Katsuki snapped, "pretty as in I want to kiss your fucking face!"

And oh. There it was. They stared at each other, eyes wide, and Katsuki wished that his bed would just up and swallow him whole. He felt hot all over and his hands were sweaty and twitchy and fucking shit, why couldn't he just keep his damn mouth shut? Kirishima blinked, face red, and said, "Oh. _Oh._" He shifted, leaning closer, those ember eyes smoldering with something as his gaze dropped to Katsuki's lips. "I kinda want to kiss your face too," Kirishima said, voice soft. His words punched the air from Katsuki's lungs and he gasped as Kirishima drew even closer, breath tickling his cheek. His eyes slid shut right as a soft kiss pressed against his lips. Katsuki shuddered, pressing closer.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

Slowly, they drew apart, and Katsuki couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his lips if he tried. His hand found Kirishima's and grasped it, entwining their fingers. "Go out with me," he said. Kirishima grinned.

"Okay." He leaned close and kissed Katsuki again, soft and slow, and Katsuki found himself melting. Distantly, he thought he should remember to thank Deku for his advice, before all thoughts outside of Kirishima and his kisses ceased to exist.

* * *

**Writing Katsuki's POV is so fun...**

**-Kat**


	4. Pretty, Pretty, Pretty

_Eijirou can't stop thinking about Bakugou calling him pretty. Five hours later, and he finds himself in Bakugou's room and demanding answers. _

**~#~#~#~**

_"You're really fucking pretty."_

It played in his mind, over and over. Like a song stuck on repeat, Eijirou heard the gruff sigh of Bakugou's voice ringing in his ears since the moment he uttered them in that dingy alleyway during class. He chewed his lip, shuddering under the ghost sensation of Bakugou's hands grasping his arms. Goosebumps tickled his skin and Eijirou glared at the wall and sighed again.

_Pretty, pretty, pretty._

"Dude, Kiri. You in there?"

Eijirou blinked, turning slowly to see Kaminari leaning into his space. His friend's furrowed brows and baffled expression relaxed into a goofy grin. "There you are. Thought I lost ya' to the void."

Eijirou snorted. "What's that even supposed to mean?" he laughed. Kaminari shrugged, leaning back into the cushions.

"I dunno, man. You tell me; you're the one that's been acting weird since class ended."

At this, Eijirou's blood ran cold. Oh, shit. Was he being that obvious? His thoughts ran back to his abrupt departure from his friend, and he cringed. Yeah, yeah he was being that obvious. Crap. He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck and forced a laugh. "Ha, no, I'm good, bro. Sorry, I'm just…thinking."

Kaminari raised a brow. "Oh yeah? About what?"

Eijirou shrugged and turned away, hoping to every deity above that the heat wasn't showing on his face. "N-nothing," he stammered, "just, erm, worried. That's all."

"Worried about what?"

"Bakugou," he blurted. Kaminari blinked.

"O-kay…why?"

Eijirou almost had to sit on his hand to keep from smacking himself. Why was he so stupid? Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut? He chewed his lip hard enough to catch the taste of iron, and shrugged. "He was acting weird n'stuff," he mumbled, gaze fixed firmly to his hands. Kaminari barked out a laugh.

"Dude, he's always acting weird. It's Bakugou; he's like, the worst at acting like a normal person." He paused, humming to himself. "Though, I suppose he was acting a little odd for his usually _charming_ self." Kaminari snorted, patting his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, he's probably just stressing about finals, for once."

"Who's stressing about finals?"

Uraraka and Midoriya blinked at him from across the room, books and papers spread across their entangled legs. They must have been studying. Eijirou shrugged, a grin and a lie on the tip of his tongue, but Kaminari beat him to the punch.

"Oh, Blasty Mcsplody. He was acting weird in hero course today, but he's probs just pent up about exams. Right, Kiri?"

Eijirou shrugged and chuckled. "Y-yeah, probably."

Midoriya, however, narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. He gazed at Eijirou with that analytical look of his, like when he was trying to solve a problem to save the day. Usually, Eijirou admired this. Now, however, he wilted under the stare, smile flickering. Midoriya only furrowed his brows further. "Did…Kacchan say anything?"

Crap. Crap, crap, crap. Eijirou barked a laugh and shook his head fervently, nearly giving himself whiplash. "N-no, nope, no he didn't! Nothing weird at all, he was just a bit jumpy, y'know? Kami's probably right, I bet he's just stressed, haha." He jumped to his feet, backing away slowly. "Well, I need to study. And stuff. So, uh, yeah." Eijirou whirled around then, fully intent on bolting up to the privacy of his room to curse his own existence. Midoriya's voice made him pause, however.

"Wait, Kirishima-kun!"

He cursed the earnestness in the boy's voice and stilled, casting a cautious glance over his shoulder. "Yeah, man?"

Midoriya was frowning, but his eyes glinted with knowledge that had Eijirou's breath catching in his throat. "You should probably just talk to him," Midoriya said. Eijirou gulped.

"Um, yeah. Right." He looked from Midoriya to Uraraka, who was leaning against his shoulder. Something curled in Eijirou's chest and he bit his lip. "Thanks," he muttered, before fleeing. Up the stairs he went, and into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Alone at last.

His mind, though, was trapped in the common room, locked on the image of Uraraka and Midoriya cuddling up together. Except, suddenly, it wasn't them he saw, but himself, with Bakugou leaning against his arm.

_Pretty, pretty, pretty._

Eijirou glared at a corner in his room. Dammit. He dragged a hand over his face. Nope, no. He wasn't going to wallow in his feelings like a wuss. Besides, he really did need to study and finish his math homework. He could deal with his feelings tomorrow, when he was feeling rational again. Squaring his shoulders, Eijirou marched across his room and snagged his backpack, rummaging around until he pulled out his math workbook. Aha! He flopped back onto his bed and flipped it open, gaze landing on the day's assignment. And then he cursed.

The universe truly hated him today. He glared at the page. Systems of equations; aka a whole load of stuff he didn't understand a lick of. Eijirou threw an arm over his face and sighed. Would it really kill his grade if he just threw this aside and forgot about it? The answer, of course, was yes; Aizawa didn't care about emotional duress when it came to stuff like teenage angst. Eijirou sighed. There was only one thing he could do.

That was how he found himself standing outside of Bakugou's door, workbook clutched in hand. He stared at it and shifted in place. Should he? He could always go back downstairs and ask someone else for help… But then the image of Midoriya and Uraraka curled on the couch together drifted back through his mind, accompanied by Midoriya's words; "You should probably just talk to him." So, without another though, Eijirou found himself knocking.

Silence. Eijirou sucked in a breath and knocked again. This time, there was the telltale thump of Bakugou stomping across the room. The door flew open a second later, revealing a disheveled and grumpy Bakugou. "Fucking what?" He snapped. Eijirou's stomach flipped, and he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Uh, hey, bro," he stammered, nerves making his hands tremble. "I could, erm, use some help. Please?"

There was a beat where Bakugou just stared. His gaze was burning hot, and Eijirou felt caught in the blaze. But he couldn't look away. The moment ended as Bakugou stepped aside, letting him in. Eijirou breathed a puff of air, relieved. "Thanks, dude."

Bakugou grunted and shut the door behind them. It clicked with a sense of finality, and for the first time in awhile, Eijirou felt a little out of place. He shuffled in place, gaze flitting about, settling on Bakugou when he spoke. "Show me the problem," he groused, flopping heavily onto his bed. Eijirou followed, handing his workbook over as he sat. He watched, entranced, as Bakugou scanned the page with a snort. "Dumbass, these are easy."

Eijirou just shrugged and breathed a laugh. He tried to focus as Bakugou leaned close to explain the problem, he really did. But he was warm, and his skin was soft, and his eyes glowed in the low light, and all Eijirou could think was _pretty, pretty, pretty._

He looked from the blank page to a shadowy corner of Bakugou's room, their earlier interaction stuck on repeat in his mind. _Pretty, pretty, pretty_.

"Oi, Shitty Hair. The fuck are you doing?"

Eijirou jolted. His gaze snapped to Bakugou's, his mind immediately going blank. "Oh. Um." He wanted to kick himself. But it felt as though the sight of Bakugou leaning back against his bed, brows raised and shirt riding up had rendered him dumb. Bakugou sighed, exasperated.

"Don't get distracted when we've hardly started. I know you have more questions than that."

"Sorry," Eijirou blurted. But he wasn't. Homework was the furthest thing from his mind, at the moment. Instead, his thoughts were of Bakugou. Or, a confused, tangled mess that was totally Bakugou's fault, anyhow. He chewed his lip, head tilting to the side as he considered his friend and tried to sort through the fuzz in his mind. Bakugou seemed to squirm, _squirm_, under the scrutiny. He rubbed his hands on his pants and sat up, his face stitched into his signature scowl.

"Fucking what?" he snapped.

"Why'd you call me pretty?"

Bakugou just stared. That moment of silence was all it took for Kirishima to realize what he'd said, and his face grew hot. He chewed his lip, gaze darting about, and wished for probably the umpteenth time that night that he could just shut up for once. "Earlier today, in class," he rambled. "You called me pretty."

There was an audible scoff. "What do you mean why? Obviously because you're pretty."

Eijirou frowned. His heart stuttered in his chest, and he wrung his hands together. He realized, belatedly, that he wanted for Bakugou to mean something, with that. Something rather specific. Something very unplatonic. "Pretty as in I'm pretty manly, or…"

"No, idiot, pretty as in I want to kiss your fucking face!" Bakugou snapped and oh. _Oh_. Eijirou stared, mouth agape. It took a good ten seconds for it to actually register that yes, Bakugou was saying that he liked him in a non-platonic way, and he blinked.

"Oh," he said, distant. "Oh." His face must have been red, but so was Bakugou's, and he couldn't help it when his gaze flickered to his lips. "I kinda want to kiss your face too." The desire to know the taste of Bakugou's lips was overwhelming, and Eijirou found himself leaning closer and closer. Bakugou made no move to stop him, letting out a gasp as their lips brushed. Eijirou felt like he was on fire. They drew apart, and Bakugou was grinning. He reached out, grasping Eijirou's hand and sending his heart pounding.

"Go out with me," he said. Eijirou grinned back.

"Okay," he breathed, and he leaned in and kissed Bakugou again. And again, and again, and again, math and homework and exams all but forgotten in the bliss of kissing Bakugou.

* * *

**And that's a wrap! Again, I figured I'd crosspost it here 'cuz why not, but you can find these on ao3 too. Thanks for reading! **

**-Kat**


End file.
